


The Thing That Never Happened

by kiyala



Series: Toxic [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, oblivious idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kisses are pretty straightforward things, right? Haha. Hahahahahaha. Ha. No, Combeferre would like to assure you, they are not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The majority of this takes place during the last chapter of [A Christmas Thing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1065442).

Combeferre is certain that at some point, he and Courfeyrac could spend _hours_ in each other's company and it would have been the most comfortable thing in the world. He can't quite pinpoint when this changed but now, even a minute alone with Courfeyrac leaves him short of breath, his heart pounding, and feeling extremely self-conscious in a way that he isn't used to and never wanted to be.

Marius has gone to have dinner with his family and Enjolras is out seeing Grantaire, and Combeferre tries to focus on that instead. Worrying about Enjolras is as natural to him as breathing and this is the first time Enjolras is meeting Grantaire outside of Valjean's office. It it goes anywhere near as badly as their first conversation, Combeferre has no idea what to do.

"You need to stop worrying about Enjolras." Courfeyrac tells him. "For an hour, Combeferre. He's going to be fine and you know it."

"You saw how excited he was when he left," Combeferre says quietly. "And you know how upset he gets when things don't go the way he hopes they will."

Courfeyrac raises an eyebrow. "And how is he hoping things will go with Grantaire?"

"Please tell me you don't actually need me to answer that," Combeferre mutters. "You've heard the way he hasn't stopped talking about Grantaire for weeks."

"He usually talks about how they barely ever agree on anything," Courfeyrac points out. "But then again, you've always been better at speaking Enjolras than I have."

"I have no idea if Grantaire is interested in him," Combeferre mutters. "I don't think Enjolras does either."

"Hell of a position to be in," Courfeyrac says quietly. "Being interested in a friend and having no idea how he feels about you."

Combeferre wants to laugh, to grab Courfeyrac by the shoulders and demand to know if they're thinking about the same thing. He settles for a non-committal hum.

With a quiet huff, Courfeyrac gets up off the couch. "More drinks, I think. What about you?"

"Definitely," Combeferre murmurs, watching as Courfeyrac mixes their drinks. He pours a generous amount of vodka into their juice and there's a very sharp bite to it when Combeferre sips from his glass. He's never really been one for drinking his problems away but he's here, alone with Courfeyrac for who knows how long, so he figures that he might as well.

When Courfeyrac drinks, he's even easier with his affection than he normally is. He leans against Combeferre on the couch, his head resting on Combeferre's shoulder as he insists that they sing carols now, when Enjolras isn't around to complain. Even with the buzz of alcohol from all the drinks they've been having throughout the day, Combeferre can't help the way his palms are sweating now. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check if Enjolras has sent any messages that he's missed. There's nothing there, so he types, _I trust everything is going well?_

Enjolras doesn't take very long to reply with, _Absolutely fine, please don't worry about me. Just focus on enjoying yourself._

"Are you checking on Enjolras?" Courfeyrac asks, and Combeferre puts his phone down guiltily. Courfeyrac shakes his head. "I think we need to find a way to distract you. We should play a game. I think I brought a deck of cards with me, have you seen them anywhere?"

Courfeyrac gets up, sorting through everything that is piled on the table. He frowns when he can't find his cards and Combeferre is incredibly tempted to tell him to sit back down, because his side suddenly feels a lot colder without Courfeyrac pressed against him.

"Oh hang on, I know where I left them. They're still in my coat pocket."

Combeferre gets up this time, following Courfeyrac to the coat rack by the door. Courfeyrac's coat is hanging there, with his beanie sitting on top of the hook. When Courfeyrac had shown up with mistletoe hanging off his beanie, Enjolras had made him take it off and leave it at the door. Marius had very loudly agreed, his cheeks red in a way that suggested Courfeyrac had already gotten him, and Combeferre had to tell himself that it was completely ridiculous to be jealous of Marius.

"They _better_ be here," Courfeyrac mutters, digging through the pockets of his coat. "That's my favourite deck of cards. If I've lost them—hang on, I think they're right at the bottom here."

"Courfeyrac," combeferre says in warning as the coat rack wobbles. "Careful. I think you're going to—"

The coat rack topples and Courfeyrac falls to the floor with an undignified squeak that Combeferre is probably never going to forget. 

"Are you okay?"

"Fine. A little bit embarrassed but you've seen me do worse—and now I'm thinking about the _worse_ , brilliant."

Combeferre laughs softly, crouching down to help Courfeyrac up. "This one time when we were eight years old, I told Enjolras that it wasn't actually possible to marry France. He was so upset with me that he broke my arm. He's still horrified about it when he remembers. And he still tries to apologise for it."

Courfeyrac snorts. "For someone who doesn't apologise for anything, he apologises to you a lot."

"Well, I keep telling him that he doesn't have to," Combeferre replies, picking up the other coats and scarves scattered on the floor.

They both reach for Courfeyrac's hat at the same time, fingers curling against each other. 

Courfeyrac's cheeks are pink when they look up at each other. "Heh, mistletoe."

Before he can stop and ask himself what he's doing, Combeferre presses a light kiss to Courfeyrac's lips. He's about to pull away when Courfeyrac takes his face into both hands, pulling him back in. They kiss harder this time, Courfeyrac's fingers going to Combeferre's hair. Combeferre lets go of the coats he's holding, wrapping his arms around Courfeyrac and holding him close.

Courfeyrac's lips are soft and warm and he sucks on Combeferre's lower lip until Combeferre's lips part. Their tongues slide against each other and Combeferre's heart is pounding so hard that he's certain Courfeyrac will hear it. 

Then Combeferre curls his fingers into Courfeyrac's hair. He doesn't quite mean to tug, and he doesn't mean for the way Courfeyrac melts against him and _whimpers_.

He definitely doesn't mean for the way it makes Courfeyrac break their kiss, his eyes wide. His lips are wet, his hair is messy, and the expression on his face makes Combeferre's heart sink.

"Wow, we're fucking drunk," Courfeyrac mutters, with a laugh that borders on hysterical. He reaches for his coat and finally pulls the pack of cards out of the pocket. "There we are."

"Do you need help getting up?" Combeferre asks, playing along because that's what he does. He says what people want him to, in order to keep things calm. Because whatever he might actually _want_ to say isn't as important as making sure that the people he cares about are happy.

"I'm fine," Courfeyrac says with a smile and oh, he's going to pretend that it never happened at all. Okay. Combeferre can do that.

By the time that Enjolras gets home, they're both sitting at the dining table, exhausting their knowledge of various card games, because all of a sudden, everything else feels too risky. Enjolras is in a good mood, and they both pick on it immediately. It's always incredibly easy to tell when Enjolras is in a particularly good mood, or a particularly bad one. 

"So I take it this meeting with Grantaire went well," Courfeyrac comments with a grin, and gives Combeferre a look that says, _see, you worried for nothing_.

"I kissed him," Enjolras says and Courfeyrac, who has been fiddling with his cards since they started playing, suddenly goes still.

"That is _awesome_ news!" Courfeyrac exclaims. "Give us all the details."

"Details?" Enjolras asks. "What details? I put my lips against his lips. Well—the first time I kissed him it was on impulse but then the second time, we both meant it."

"I'm glad," Combeferre murmurs, and Courfeyrac looks up at him, an odd look in his eyes that Combeferre doesn't even want to try and decipher right now.

"Are we going to meet him any time soon?" Courfeyrac asks. 

Enjolras sits down at the table with them, automatically taking the seat closest to Combeferre, and hums in thought. "I don't want to rush anything."

"Take as long as you need," Combeferre tells him. "There's no rush at all."

"So when are we going to start making dinner?" Courfeyrac asks brightly. "I ask because I promised Pontmercy I'd send him photos while we were cooking, so he could pretend he was still with us, instead of at his stuffy family dinner."

That makes Enjolras smile, and Combeferre mirrors it. They can pretend everything's fine so that Enjolras won't notice anything's off. Maybe if they try hard enough, they'll convince themselves, too.


	2. Chapter 2

"You're upset," Enjolras says to Combeferre, two days later. 

"I'm fine," Combeferre replies mildly. He doesn't lie to Enjolras, or he tries not to, as much as he can. With that said, he's more than happy to bend the truth when he needs to.

"No, you're _upset_." Enjolras is frowning now. "You've been upset for two days now and I've been waiting for you to tell me why but you're _hiding it from me_ —"

Enjolras breaks off, taking a deep breath, when he realises he's raising his voice. "Sorry."

Combeferre shakes his head. "Don't apologise. It's good that you realised."

"We have an _agreement_ ," Enjolras says, quieter, but still sounding frustrated. "You agreed that if I do or say anything that upsets you, then you'll let me know. As soon as it happens. Please, Combeferre. I hate upsetting you, and I hate not knowing why even more."

"Enjolras," Combeferre says gently. "You haven't upset me at all."

"But you _are_ upset," Enjolras says, and narrows his eyes. "Who made you upset? Because when I find them—"

Combeferre laughs softly. "I've made myself upset, I'm afraid. You don't need to worry about it."

"So you really aren't going to talk to me about it, then." Enjolras doesn't sound particularly surprised.

"I was hoping to deal with it before you even noticed," Combeferre admits. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry that you didn't tell me, or sorry that I noticed?" Enjolras asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Both," Combeferre replies honestly. "I need to get going. I can't be late to work today. You know what the sales are like after Christmas."

"Have a good day," Enjolras says. "Or try, anyway."

"Are you seeing Grantaire today?" Combeferre asks, and Enjolras' smile is answer enough. "Stay away from the crowds, okay?"

"You know I will," Enjolras replies. He hesitates before adding, "I hope you feel better soon."

"I will," Combeferre assures him, because he doesn't really have any other options. One way or another, he'll have to learn to get over this, to put the entire matter behind him so he and Courfeyrac can go back to acting as they always did, and that being enough. At least Enjolras doesn't seem to have picked up on the fact that any of this has to do with Courfeyrac. It's a small comfort, but Combeferre will take what he can get.

He's working all day at the bookshop and his manager is already there, setting everything up before it's time for them to open. He has a large cup of coffee waiting for Combeferre on the counter.

"Did you see the people lining up to enter the shopping centre?" Combeferre asks, sipping at his coffee gratefully, knowing that he's going to need it to get through today.

"We're going to be incredibly busy," his manager murmurs, and sounds like he's dreading it just as much as he's looking forward to it.

They have two staff members coming in half an hour after they open and then two more in the afternoon. The sales after Christmas always attract the biggest crowds and while Combeferre usually dreads it, he's hoping that today will at least be busy enough to get his mind off Courfeyrac for a while, so he can stop agonising over every single little thing about their kiss ( _kisses_ , his mind unhelpfully supplies). 

Of course, Combeferre is nowhere near that lucky. It's busy all day, yes, their customers coming in waves and leaving very little time in between to tidy the store, but this doesn't change a single thing. Courfeyrac sticks in his mind persistently and even as Combeferre is ringing up sales on the register or answering customers' questions, part of him is still replaying their kiss on a loop, making his gut twist with embarrassment as he thinks of how he'd been the one to make the first move, or the way Courfeyrac had looked at him when they pulled apart.

It's late by the time he gets home, because he'd stayed behind to close up and tidy the store as much as possible to get it back to something resembling order. When he lets himself into their apartment, he finds Enjolras pacing in their kitchen, the way he does when there's something wrong. 

"How was your day? You look tired." Enjolras waves in the direction of the couch. "Sit down, I'm making some tea for us anyway. With a bit of brandy, because I thought you might need it after getting through today. Congratulations on surviving it, by the way. At least it's all over now."

"That's true," Combeferre murmurs, more than happy to collapse on the couch for a while before doing anything else. "Thank you."

"Are you feeling any better?" Enjolras asks, walking to the couch with both of their mugs.

"Not particularly," Combeferre replies with a quiet sigh. He gives Enjolras a moment as they both sip their tea, and then says, "What's the matter?"

"I spoke to Courfeyrac," Enjolras says, and Combeferre's heart sinks. "I asked him if he knew why you've been so upset lately and—well, I noticed it after I came back from meeting Grantaire in the park that day, so I asked him if you were upset because of Grantaire, for whatever reason."

" _No_ , Enjolras, I'm incredibly happy that you and Grantaire are working things out together. Speaking of which, how did your date go today—?"

"It went well, but don't think I'm going to let you change the subject like that." Enjolras smiles at him and Combeferre shrugs. Worth a try.

"So what did Courfeyrac tell you?" Combeferre asks, keeping his voice even because he has no idea how much Enjolras knows.

"Nothing. He told me that he doesn't know why you're so upset either." Enjolras frowns. "I could tell that he was lying. You're both hiding something from me, aren't you?"

"Please don't look at it like that," Combeferre murmurs. "That's not our intention at all."

"What _happened_ , Combeferre?"

"I kissed him," Combeferre admits. He shakes his head, not quite meeting Enjolras' eyes. "Well. We kissed each other."

"That's a good thing!" Enjolras says, but then Combeferre's lack of enthusiasm makes him pause. "…Isn't it?"

"Yes and no," Combeferre replies. "Mostly no."

"When did this happen? I would have noticed. Unless I was— _oh_. It was while I was out in the park, wasn't it?"

Combeferre nods miserably. "I kissed him the same time you kissed Grantaire. And look where we are now."

"I thought that kissing each other would be a good thing. Instead, your feelings are hurt and Courfeyrac is… _oh_ , he's acting like nothing happened at all. I am going to _get him_."

"Please don't," Combeferre says, even going so far as to hold Enjolras down with one arm across his chest. "We'll work it out."

"You're meant to be _happy_ ," Enjolras says, frustrated. "I asked Courfeyrac to talk to you to see if he could figure out what's wrong. He said that he would. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"You didn't know," Combeferre tells him, "because I didn't tell you. It's not your fault. It's going to be fine, okay? We'll sort it out."

"I hope you do," Enjolras murmurs against his mug. "I hate when you're not happy."

Combeferre bumps their shoulders together gently, and gets Enjolras to talk about his date with Grantaire. At least this way, he can try to get his mind off Courfeyrac for a while. He's just as unsuccessful as he has been for the entire day.

Courfeyrac doesn't talk to him until two days later, and even that is strange because they usually see each other on a daily basis, even if it's just briefly. Combeferre has a short shift at the bookshop and as he walks out with his bag slung over his shoulder at midday, Courfeyrac is waiting for him just outside.

Combeferre stops in his track and Courfeyrac gives him a small, nervous smile, walking towards him. "If this is a bad time—or if you don't want to—"

"No. No, it's fine." Combeferre is glad that he at least knew to expect this. He would be doing much worse if he didn't. "We do need to talk, don't we?"

"Maybe not here though." Courfeyrac glances around at the shopping centre uncomfortably. The sales have died down so it's not as busy as before, but there are still far too many people around to have the kind of conversation that they need to have. 

"Enjolras said that he was going to be out with Grantaire again," Combeferre says with a small shrug. He can't quite help the way he smiles and adds, "He and Grantaire have been spending a lot of time together recently. Without getting into too many arguments, from the sounds of it. He's happy."

"That's really good to hear," Courfeyrac replies with a warm smile. He coughs quietly before adding, "Yeah, okay, we'll go to your place."

The walk there is silent and Combeferre hates this. He hates the fact that while they could at least pretend that everything was fine after they'd kissed, they can't even do that now. He hates the thought that this is just how things are going to be between them now, and that he's ruined everything just because he couldn't resist the urge to kiss Courfeyrac when he's been successfully keeping it at bay for _years_ until now.

He holds the door open for Courfeyrac and when they're both inside, they stand there, watching each other carefully.

"I can't do this," Courfeyrac says, sudden and forceful. "I can't _not_ talk about it. Enjolras came to talk to me and—he asked if I'd noticed anything wrong with you. That you've been upset lately. Ever since…"

Combeferre waits, his heart caught in his throat, for Courfeyrac to continue.

"I'm sorry I kissed you, okay?" Courfeyrac runs a hand through his hair, looking at the floor. "That wasn't meant to happen."

Combeferre swallows hard and keeps his face blank. "I see."

"I just—I don't want you to think less of me because of it. You and Enjolras are my best friends in the entire world and I don't want to fuck that up."

"It's fine," Combeferre assures him. "We'll go back to how it was before."

Courfeyrac shakes his head, his brows drawn together. "You're really good at hiding how you feel, you know? You're so difficult to read sometimes but I can _see_ how you're trying to pretend this doesn't bother you, and you can't. If I can see that you're upset—if _Enjolras_ can see that you're upset, I don't even want to imagine how much this actually bothers you. I'm sorry, Combeferre. I never meant to put you in this position."

"No, I don't suppose either of us really planned on being here," Combeferre murmurs. He smiles at Courfeyrac, but doesn't bother holding it in place when Courfeyrac can see through it anyway. "It's fine, Courfeyrac. It's not your fault. I'll just need some time to—I don't know. Get over you, I suppose. I'd rather have you as a friend than lose you entirely."

"…Get over me?" Courfeyrac repeats, his eyes going round. "Wait. What are we talking about?"

"The kiss?" Combeferre's brows draw together with confusion.

"Tell me what happened when we kissed," Courfeyrac says and shakes his head when Combeferre's frown deepens. "No, I'm serious. Tell me what you think happened when we kissed. Please, Combeferre."

"I kissed you," Combeferre mutters. "And then you kissed me back, until you realised that this was a bad idea, and we were better of pretending it never happened."

Courfeyrac blinks, then shakes his head slowly. "Okay, I think we fucked up."

"You mean in yet _another_ way?" Combeferre asks with a hollow laugh, and regrets his tone when Courfeyrac frowns.

"I thought—Combeferre, I thought that you didn't want to kiss me."

"I kissed you _first_."

"It was brief! Light. Maybe platonic. And then I didn't even think before I grabbed you and kissed you again and—"

"And I kissed back," Combeferre points out, his heart pounding. He thinks he knows where this is going, but he's too careful to hope. He doesn't know if he can deal with hurting his own feelings so many times in the one week.

"And then I pulled away and panicked because I thought…" Courfeyrac trails off and groans loudly. "I'm an idiot."

"We're both idiots," Combeferre assures him, finally giving in to the smile tugging at his lips.

"Can you not be so… kind and wonderful and _amazing_ , just for once? We've both spent the past four days feeling like shit, because I didn't think. You can be angry at me for that, okay?"

"I'd rather just kiss you again," Combeferre murmurs, and he isn't sure if he's ever smiled this much in his life before. His cheeks are beginning to hurt but he doesn't mind at all, because Courfeyrac is smiling right back.

"Yeah. We could do that."

Combeferre wraps his arms around Courfeyrac's waist and pulls him close. When they kiss this time, it's brief, but they both mean it. They know what they're doing. It only took them four days.

"…Wait," Combeferre murmurs, pulling back, and Courfeyrac goes still. "We're sure about this? We're… this isn't just a kiss. It changes—well, it changes _everything_ about us. We're sure we want to do this?"

It's too late to be asking that, and Combeferre _knows_ that. He's careful by nature and he's been doing all of this wrong, he's allowed his heart to make all the decisions instead of his head, and he's still terrified that this could all go badly. Thankfully, Courfeyrac knows him well enough to understand all of this without the need for words.

"We can do this," Courfeyrac assures him, resting their foreheads together. "It's going to work and it's going to be _great_ , and you know it."

"What if it doesn't?" Combeferre asks with a small frown. "What if this goes _badly_ , and it ruins everything?" 

"It won't," Courfeyrac assures him. "We'll make it work. We _will_. You need someone to put you first, because you never do it yourself and I _know_ that no matter what, you'll always come up with some kind of reason to prioritise every single other person before thinking about yourself, and I need—you." 

"You need me," Combeferre repeats quietly. Enjolras needs him. People, in general, tend to need him for various things because he's kind, because he's patient, because—

"I need you in my life, every single day, because being with you makes me happy. Because even when I know that I'll only get to spend five minutes with you, they're the best five minutes of my day and I spend the entire day beforehand looking forward to it and then the rest of the day _thinking_ about it. Because your smiles aren't even all that rare and I still treasure every single one of them. Because—"

"Okay," Combeferre cuts him off, laughing with embarrassment. "Okay, okay, I get it."

"I really like you," Courfeyrac murmurs, and presses another kiss to his lips.

"I really like you too," Combeferre replies, and when he pulls Courfeyrac into a deep kiss, neither of them move away for a long time.


End file.
